


Rolling Boil

by sabinelagrande



Category: Dark Shadows (1966)
Genre: Angry Sex, Dry Humping, F/M, Fight Sex, Hate Sex, Rough Body Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:30:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then it goes out of control.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rolling Boil

It's not important what they were fighting about, because if they were in the same room, they were in some stage of a fight. This was one of those fights that circled the house, the ones where they'd fought enough in one room that they had to leave and fight in another room, the non-logic of the deep argument making it seem so obvious at the time. They were alone in the house for whatever reason, the other inhabitants called away; it doesn't matter if it was a good reason or not, because it was a damn good thing.

This fight had paraded around the house long enough that they had ended up in Elizabeth's room, which made complete sense in context, whatever the context was, even though it was clearly inappropriate. Jason was still dogging her about whatever he was dogging her about, his energy always boundless when it came to annoying her.

"Drop it, Elizabeth," he said. "You're going to do what I want, and just as soon as you stop pretending you're not going to, we can move on."

And then she hit him, just hit him, square across the face. She'd never done anything more than slap someone in her entire life, that nasty business with Paul excluded, but now she'd done it and she'd do it again gladly. The expression on his face was so satisfying, the disbelief on it, as if he'd never actually thought, even after all he knew she'd done, that she'd ever go as far as to break her composure, lose herself like that. She wasn't quite sure that she believed it, but there they were. There was no going back now.

His face changed. It was a look she'd seen before on his face, one that she knew precisely the meaning of, yet this time, she didn't flinch back from it, didn't order him out. Her breath was coming heavy and fast and she didn't know what it meant, not any of it, but that didn't matter in the least to her now. She raised her hand, moving to strike him again, and he caught her wrist. "Little Lizzie wants a fight," he said mockingly. "Careful what you wish for, girl."

He was the one who should have been more careful, because she kicked him in the shin, hard enough that he swore. She smacked him again while he tried to recover, hitting him on the shoulder, but he grabbed her around the waist. She flailed at him with her fists, raining blows on his back, but he laughed them off, driving her forward and getting her where he wanted her. 

He pushed her hard against the wall, grinning an even more evil grin than she expected out of him. She struggled against him, fighting as he pinned her wrists on either side of her head. His hands were like steel bands, solid and tight even as she tried to slip out of his grasp. She pushed and squirmed and kicked, but there was nothing to be done, no way to outdo someone who'd spent a lifetime brawling in bars while she'd been reduced to sitting at home and making pillows.

Somehow it wasn't even a shock when he kissed her. The only thing wrong was that it was too gentle; she bit down on his lip, pulling on it with her teeth, and he made a noise of surprise. Good. He'd learned to underestimate her, to assume that she was an easy pawn, but she wouldn't have that, not here. He could keep her under his control, use her secrets against her, but she wasn't going to let him have everything, not without a fight.

He rucked up her skirt and shoved his leg in between hers, their bodies grinding together, and she gasped, arching towards him. He looked triumphant for a moment, like he thought he'd won, but then she thrust against him, catching him off-guard. He jumped, and she smiled, knowing exactly what she'd done. His cock was hard against her, but she didn't move away. Instead she rocked her hips, just to hear him hiss at the sensation, almost too much through so much clothing.

She suddenly realized how close she was, on the verge of climax; she didn't stop, pushing against his leg, looking for more. By the sound of it, he wasn't far behind her, and he worked his body faster. He bit her neck, reaching down while she was still distracted by the pain and rubbing her through the thin material separating her from him. She bit her lip as she came, doing her best to give no sign that he'd won, made her give it up for him; it didn't seem to matter, because almost as soon as she'd done it he pushed hard against her thigh and groaned, clutching her hip to keep her still.

Neither of them moved for a long moment. She could feel the precise second when it suddenly became horribly awkward; he stepped back, looking her up and down as she straightened her skirt. There were wet spots on his trousers, some of which had clearly not come from him, and she looked away, not wanting to think about what it meant.

"Well," he said, and it could have been so much more mocking than it was. Mostly he sounded rather quizzical, like he didn't know what to make of any of it.

"Get out," she said flatly.

"I was just going," he told her. "Goodnight, Liz."

She didn't watch as he left, the door closing behind him. She shut her eyes, counting slowly. She was going to change clothes and go back about her business. It was just going to take a moment for her to collect herself, put herself back to rights.

Jason had always had that effect on her. In too many ways, this wasn't any different at all.


End file.
